The sign on the door says shh, and they mean every single word
In this tiny room where the smallest whispers can be heard
We're sitting in a circle with the lyrics laid out on our knees
Trying to capture the mountain air and the Appalachian breeze
The lady in the velvet holds her breath in the front row seat
Watching the struggle of the heart and the rhythm stay complete
The silver hair is falling forward as I lean into the light
Trading all the stadium noise for the truth of a Nashville night
I'm stripped of the costume and I'm stripped of the stage side pride
With nowhere left for a veteran soul to run away and hide
It rings out with a wooden and honest tone, the most vulnerable sound
That we have ever truly known
Our silent co-pilot has a tear at the edge of her eye
As she listens to the story of a dream that refused to die
Every line is a confession, every verse is a jagged scar
In the quietest corner of a world, famous songwriting bar
One word for the journey, one word for the heavy years
Turning all the laughter and the industrial style fears into tears
